


To Substitute Oneself for Faith

by Valmouth



Series: Star Wars Kink Meme Fills [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Bottom Qui-Gon Jinn, Daddy Kink, F/M, Gen, Kink Meme, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Multi, enlightenment, kink meme fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: Star Wars Kink Meme fills so every chapter will vary. This specific set is for the more mature fills.





	1. Obi-Wan/ Qui-Gon, bottom!Qui-Gon

Original Prompt: Because there is too little bottom!Qui-Gon in this fandom. Already knighted Obi-Wan, please, and without Master-Padawan power play.

 

Original dreamwidth thread: <https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1133898#cmt1133898>

* * *

 

 

On the whole, he generally prefers to be penetrated.   
  
Qui-Gon is aware that this would surprise some people, given his size and his age and his general demeanour, but his body appreciates what it appreciates, and he finds nothing particularly shameful about accepting pleasure from his lover.   
  
He supposes he is lucky that Obi-Wan feels the same way. Well, to the extent that Obi-Wan is more than happy to be the one penetrating, rather than assuming that his own size and age and general demeanour should dictate what stereotype of sexual position he should find most satisfying.   
  
This is not to say that some nights they don't switch positions.   
  
Some nights Qui-Gon is frustrated and restless and expends the coiling energy in his bones in aggressive bed play, and some nights Obi-Wan is exhausted and a little wistful and feels the need to be taken care of.  
  
But for the most part, Qui-Gon is willing to part his legs and accept Obi-Wan's fingers and cock and anything else his lover decides to push into him.   
  
He finds he will never again be able to look at an ice cube without feeling the corner of his mouth twitch.   
  
"Oh?" Obi-Wan grins, "I think we should explore this interesting new development."  
  
"After you've finished what we've already begun," Qui-Gon retorts, but his lover only laughs and pulls two fingers out only to press three back in, all of them freshly slicked.  
  
Qui-Gon curls his fingers impatiently into the sheets.  
  
Sometimes, he thinks they could do without all this exaggerated care. And they go through bottles of lubricant in a rather wasteful way. But Obi-Wan enjoys the wet glide and Qui-Gon certainly isn't a fan of pain.   
  
Pain is something inflicted by the outside world - by enemies and opponents and the evils they fight. In their bedroom, there is only intimacy and comfort.  
  
Well, and the occasional argument. That hasn't changed since the days that Obi-Wan was much younger and Qui-Gon completely oblivious to his Padawan's apparently obvious feelings.  
  
Still, they've come to terms with the past, and reconciled themselves to it. Obi-Wan was once his Padawan, and Qui-Gon is some thirty odd years older than this knight still arrogant with youth, but in a strange way, they balance each other when they are together.   
  
Obi-Wan is always more composed at Qui-Gon's side, and Qui-Gon is certainly far more reckless when Obi-Wan is there to rein in his worst impulses.  
  
Qui-Gon moans and arches his spine. Obi-Wan's other hand touches his hip in concern at almost exactly the same time as he winces. Some movement is still difficult after having had a lightsabre thrust halfway through his sternum, and stiffness in the spine is one of them.  
  
"Turn over," Obi-Wan says, and taps his hip.  
  
Together, they get him turned over, a pillow under his back and his hips in Obi-Wan's lap, and when the first glide of Obi-Wan's slender, long cock begins to sweep into him, Qui-Gon closes his eyes and luxuriates in it.   
  
He can feel his body give, and then the spark of pleasure as Obi-Wan nudges his prostate. Followed, as always, by the warm hand that wraps around him.  
  
He is larger than Obi-Wan, and according to Obi-Wan, a quite impressive spectacle, but he sees no particular reason to prefer the grip of Obi-Wan's body over the grip of Obi-Wan's fist. There are advantages to both, and what it really comes down to is this - he enjoys this, and he loves Obi-Wan, and so long as they both end fulfilled and satisfied, he will never be ashamed.

 

 


	2. Obi-Wan/All the Sith, all of them, magical healing cock, crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly inspired by a previous prompt.
> 
> After literally banging the Light Side, Obi-Wan gains the power to cause people to see the Light. With sex. He embarks on an epic mission to have sex with all of these Dark Siders popping up lately. Because the Sith are behind so much of the craziness in the galaxy, Obi-Wan's sex pilgrimage actually cause the war to calm down. That's right: Obi-Wan screws the galaxy into being better place.
> 
> Bonus for using the phrase "magical healing cock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To my infinite sorrow, I never did get around to using the phrase 'magical healing cock'.

Original dreamwidth thread: <http://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1132362#cmt1132362>

 

* * *

 

They start off keeping him in restraints. After all, he is a Jedi Knight and though he is a man, he hasn't been tamed yet.  
  
And frankly, the fact that he turns up on Dathomir willingly is enough to make Mother Talzin suspicious.   
  
He smiles too easily, and submits too quickly, and when he is finally on his knees before her, surrounded by armed guards, he seems to find his situation entirely too satisfactory.  
  
She's beginning to think he's mentally unstable. Or a spy. Or possessed of some frankly strange preferences.  
  
She holds his lightsaber up, a reminder that he is unarmed and in grave danger.  
  
His smile only widens.   
  
"I come in peace," he says, "I assure you that weapon will not be used against you."  
  
She has no use for such assurances. Men make assurances as easily as breathing, with no honour and less wisdom.   
  
Sidious made many assurances.  
  
Her lips twist.  
  
But she trusts the Jedi even less, sanctimonious preachers that they are. She has no use for self-denying ascetics who pretend to peace and wisdom while they kill and meddle in what they don't understand.   
  
"I have heard of you," she says, "Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Negotiator."  
  
In hindsight, this is where she goes wrong.  
  
Kenobi is entirely truthful about never intending to draw his lightsaber against the Nightsisters. He is only half truthful about not meaning them any harm. He is lying through his perfect white teeth when he implies he will use no weapon against them.  
  
She wakes up the next morning sticky and still aroused. But she has to wait, because Kenobi is sore and severely exhausted. Though the insane Jedi is still going, face pressed between the thighs of one of her guards.   
  
Someone - and she has a horrible suspicion that it was her - has removed his restraints. And she can't bring herself to regret it. Because he has quite literally fucked trust and empathy into her. What she remembers of her orgasm with his cock buried inside her is... it can't be real, she thinks.   
  
She - again, quite literally- saw the Light.  
  
Her guard grunts and pulls his face impossibly closer, hips working frantically. And he makes some strange muffled sound partway between breathlessness and amusement.  
  
He is _amused_.  
  
This is when she makes her second mistake. She tries to use Dark Magick on him.   
  
To teach him a lesson. To make an example of him. To re-establish her power.  
  
Her guards bring her around gently and he shows her very kindly how to purge the darkness from her thoughts. She thinks longingly of the days when she would have been able to fry his organs inside him without ever drawing blood but the most she can manage now is a slightly grey spell every now and again.  
  
Still, the sex is good.  
  
And she is still the most powerful of the Nightsisters. So she gets to fuck him again. This time outside in the mists, feeling the whole planet groan and shake as his pretty, pretty cock pierces up into her core. She rides him wildly, bereft of her dark power, of her ritual habit, of her sense of _self_ and _vengeance_ and the only thirst left to her is a craving for the bright, searing ecstasy of his hot seed triggering a vision of Light so blinding the euphoria lasts for hours.  
  
Around them are the cries and moans of her sisters chasing their own release.   
  
At some point she knows two of them push her forward so they can lap with their greedy tongues at the place where he stretches her open. One more suckles at her breast and another kisses her deep and sweet. Four more work on him and they are laden down with a pile of bodies but it doesn't matter.  
  
All that matters is the grand finish and she screams when she finally reaches hers.  
  
When he finally leaves, she is sore and morose and pregnant. But she takes some satisfaction in the sight of him limping up the ramp.   
  
His work here is done.  
  
She does not want to kill and enslave anymore. She does not feel hatred or the thirst for vengeance. But she is still herself.  
  
"After all you have done for us," she purrs, "Perhaps I can return the favour."  
  
"Frankly," he says, "I think I've lost all feeling from the waist down. I doubt I can withstand another favour."  
  
She smiles at him.   
  
For the first time she sees his eyes narrow, his mask of supreme confidence slip.  
  
"Little Jedi," she says, "I mean only to help you on your quest to bring peace and justice to this galaxy! We Nightsisters have never concerned ourselves with any world but our own, but I see now that joy must be shared. And sadly, I know of one who is desperately in need of... Enlightenment. You might know him as Darth Sidious?"  
  
All his smoothness vanishes and Kenobi folds his arms. "Go on," he says shortly, and she feels her smile widen.  
  
It's funny, she muses, how doing good can be quite satisfying.

 

 


	3. Obi Wan / Qui Gon : "Teaching lesson"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padawan Obi Wan might always appear innocent, but he really has a dirty little secret - He loves to wear buttplugs, the more often the better. When his Master Qui-Gon accidentally finds out, he decides to teach his naughty Padawan a lesson, by letting him train his lightsabre skills with his plug still inside.
> 
> +If Obi Wan orgasms due to his anal stimulation during training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trigger warning for sort-of underage touching. 
> 
> A/N 1: Less orgasms, more pain due to anal stimulation during training. Idk.

The Master learns from the Padawan.   
  
The truth of this cannot be argued, Qui-Gon thinks. He's learned something from every Padawan he's taken under his protection. From Feemor he learned responsibility, from Xanatos he learned judgement. From Obi-Wan, he finds himself learning patience.   
  
And so he practices.  
  
He practices many things that morning - patience, serenity, and the ability to watch while not appearing to look.   
  
Obi-Wan is admirably composed, in the circumstances, but now that Qui-Gon knows what to look for, the small missteps and hitches of breath are obvious, as is the slow, sensual flex of muscle when bending or leaning or...   
  
He closes his eyes and breathes to find his centre.   
  
A Master is not so much a teacher as he is a guide. That is also a truth that cannot be argued, though the distinction is somewhat hazy when faced with a Padawan who does something so ridiculously stupid.   
  
Qui-Gon is four heartbeats away from grabbing Obi-Wan by the shoulders and shaking him till his eyes rattle. The boy has less sense than a rampaging bantha on an ice floe.   
  
Sex is transitory, sexual pleasure is transitory, and the energy he is putting into indulging his desires has been stolen from his training. Qui-Gon will not tolerate that.   
  
"Master?"  
  
He opens his eyes and smiles. "I have reached a decision, Padawan," he says, "I believe it is time to test your endurance."  
  
Obi-Wan freezes.  
  
"A lightsaber drill, I think," Qui-Gon continues, voice level and warm, "We have had some time to rest so you should be at optimum fitness."  
  
"Of- of course," Obi-Wan says, and once again, Qui-Gon is impressed. His Padawan is only barely holding his panic inside but he is holding it. "I... will meet you there, Master."  
  
"No," Qui-Gon says, "I wish to give you some instructions before you begin. I think you will do better to pay attention to your hips, Obi-Wan. You do not turn into your strokes and your balance could be better. Come. Walk with me."  
  
Obi-Wan does. And Qui-Gon quickens his pace almost thoughtlessly. Cruelly.  
  
But his Padawan keeps up.  
  
Qui-Gon elects to use the public training grounds. And he places him in the central ring. And he stands aside and says, "Begin."  
  
And Obi-Wan does.  
  
There is no mistaking the tremors, or the compensation.  
  
Qui-Gon folds his arms within his sleeves and puts him through his paces four more times. Each time more disastrous than the last.  
  
Obi-Wan is flushed, breathing deeply, and by the end of the fourth time, Qui-Gon can see his Padawan dart a frantic gaze around the room.   
  
"Master," Obi-Wan says, and his voice quivers, "If I may be excused for a moment..."  
  
"Are you ill?" Qui-Gon asks, and he walks over.  
  
He tilts Obi-Wan's chin up, and examines his dilated pupils and red, bitten lips. He touches the pulse at his throat and Obi-Wan actually bites back a moan.  
  
"No," Obi-Wan starts to say.  
  
"Then continue," Qui-Gon interrupts, and walks away, "Your opponents will not wait for your convenience."  
  
He quite thinks that Obi-Wan is going to cry, even at fifteen, but the boy is dutiful and in any case, he has given him no easy way out. For Obi-Wan to bolt now will mean admitting everything.   
  
Which he will do, Qui-Gon promises himself, but only after he has been punished enough.  
  
By the time he takes his Padawan back to their quarters, Obi-Wan is glassy-eyed and almost shaking where he stands. Four times he stopped halfway through a kata to let his body ride out his over-stimulation. At one point, Qui-Gon was genuinely concerned his apprentice would simply stop right there to remove the treacherous plug lodged so deep in his ass.  
  
Right in front of everyone, in the middle of the training room.   
  
Qui-Gon locks the door without Obi-Wan even noticing.  
  
Obi-Wan is single-mindedly making for his room and when Qui-Gon calls him to a halt, he actually whimpers.   
  
It's a tiny sound, but infinitely wounded and pleading, and Qui-Gon softens.  
  
"Return to your room and lie down," he says, voice gentle but implacable, "Lay on your stomach. I will attend to you in a moment."  
  
Which he does.  
  
He brings a soothing aloe gel and a cold compress, and tugs Obi-Wan's boots and belt and trousers off without a word more to deepen his apprentice's shame and conflicted emotions.   
  
The plug is still firmly lodged inside, but the poor rim clinging to it is badly swollen and red. The lubricant has clearly begun to dry or drain.   
  
Qui-Gon silently works a slow application of the aloe gel between plug and abused anus, wiggling the silicon to slick as much as he can over as wide an area as he can. Then he begins to ease the plug out.  
  
He is unsure whether he is impressed or even more angry. The plug is thick and hard, and it seems to go on forever as he draws it out. Even with the added lube, the swollen flesh clings stickily to it and almost doesn't let go.  
  
The plug pops free with an obscene sound and Obi-Wan shoves his hips back and up with a hoarse cry.  
  
Qui-Gon slips a finger in just to ease the sudden shock of emptiness.   
  
When a few moments have passed, he removes it and doesn't linger as he applies one more scoop of the aloe gel before pushing the cold compress down between Obi-Wan's legs.  
  
The yelp he gets is, he feels, allowable in the circumstances. No doubt the boy's erection and balls are also badly over-stimulated. Better to ease them for now and give him the space later to work the residual sexual tension out of himself.  
  
It is quite some time later before Obi-Wan appears, wearing clean trousers and a particularly sheepish look.  
  
"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan says, and cannot quite meet his eyes.  
  
Qui-Gon has learned infinite patience from Obi-Wan but somehow or other, he finds himself also learning indulgence. This is a trait that troubles him given his history with Xanatos.   
  
But as he eyes Obi-Wan's truly repentant expression and bow-legged stance, he sighs and gives in. Again.   
  
"I will make you a deal," he says, "You will not wear the plug during missions, mornings, or scheduled training sessions at any time of the day or night. At all other times, you may do as you like. If I require your complete focus when it is not one of the specified times, you may ask me for a moment's privacy to... attend to matters. Yes?"  
  
Obi-Wan nods, blushing from the roots of his hair to the backs of his hands.  
  
"And now, Padawan," Qui-Gon says, "I think you should meditate on this matter."  
  
Obi-Wan looks helplessly at the meditation platform but he obeys. He bites his lip as he gets stiffly to his knees.  
  
"Lotus position will be best," Qui-Gon says, watching him.  
  
Obi-Wan winces as he crosses his legs, his tender asshole no doubt adjusting to the stretch and pressure.   
  
Qui-Gon is reasonably sure the lesson has been learned.


	4. Qui-gon/Obi-wan, Daddy kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says.
> 
> Bonuses/Ideas:  
> -Qui-gon calling Obi-wan "good boy"  
> -Obi-wan grinding down on Qui-gon's thigh/lap  
> -Praise kink

Original dreamwidth thread: <https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=957258#cmt957258>

* * *

 

 

He hides his shame.  
  
But at dead of night he takes the word out, rolls it on his tongue and swallows thickly around it. He sometimes mouths it, but it means almost nothing without the sound.   
  
Without sound, it's just a thought.   
  
And Qui-Gon has often told him to mind his thoughts.   
  
He tries.  
  
Truly he does.  
  
And someone somewhere once mistook him for the son that Qui-Gon doesn't have and his Master chose not to correct them. Used the deception for his own ends and Obi-Wan had felt himself go hot and cold. Had felt the shiver go down his spine.   
  
Because sometimes Qui-Gon will nod approvingly, and smile, and for a brief moment all will be right in Obi-Wan's world.   
  
So he hides his shame, and he mouths each infantile consonant in the dead of night. He closes his eyes and lets his hand slip down between his legs.   
  
Sometimes he rubs himself frantically, roughly. Imagines large, firm hands guiding him to relief.  
  
And sometimes he uses the barest tips of his fingers. Whimpers as he tickles the underside of his cock and teases the head until he thinks he'll go mad.  
  
But when he is in the Temple, he rolls onto his front and pulls a pillow between his legs.   
  
He imagines it is firm with muscle and heavy bone. Imagines it angles up to meet each roll of his hips. And he humps down into it as he fingers himself open. His toes curl as he opens his mouth to the dark night and screams soundlessly for his 'Daddy' to fuck him, please, please, Daddy, please, let him cum, he'll be good, he'll be so good, please, Daddy, DADDY!  
  
When it's over, he drifts to sleep feeling the phantom brush of a hand against his hair and the whisper of approval.   
  
And in the morning he wakes up to try again.

 


End file.
